The game
by MeLaNch0LYdreams
Summary: Oz tries to explain the game. Gil thinks of a different, bigger, more important one.


The game

Summary: Oz tries to explain the game, Gil thinks of a different, bigger, more important one. Supposed to be humorous but ended up as angst -.-

All was silent in the Rainsworth manor as everyone boredly went about their business. As Alice nibbled her leg of chicken thoughtfully, daydreaming of Jack-his reincarnation caused her to choke on it with five words. "I just lost the game!" Oz yelled abruptly, everyone seemed to look at him incredulously until Alice glared at him and repeated his words. Sharon, Break, and Emily followed suit, each glaring at Oz like the pariah his father considered him to be. Oz also looked sullen himself but grinned in amusement. He waited for his servant to repeat his words but was rewarded with silent puzzlement. "Gil." he glared, words dragging out harshly. "..game?" normally, being the baby he was, he would be cowering in fear by now despite the differing proportions between him and Oz (we all know who would win) if he wasn't just a fucking genius that happened to twist his words around and make him feel all weak and shit. And the blackmail. Oh the blackmail! So that was the reason Gil would usually obey, but he was WAY too confused. "We were playing a game?" he questioned quizzically, gold eyes shaped with childish wonder. Because he would have known. Oz's emerald orbs widened in shock, his mouth formed in an 'o' and gaping like a fish. "You mean you don't know the game? You've been in this earth longer than I have!" Way to explain, Oz.

"The game.." Oz tried to explain, worry his lower lip with his teeth as he pondered, emerald orbs trained on the ceiling. He almost wanted to pull the pearly whites from the rose petals but restrained himself ."The game is a game you don't know your playing, but your always playing it. And every time you remember the game ,you lose. The way to win is to forget your playing." he continued, pleased with his description. Gil tried to keep the condescending look off his face. Oz was such an idiot sometimes. Then again, everyone around him seemed to be bat shit insane lately. His younger brother cuts up teddy bears for no reason. Need there be more said? But the wheels were turning in Gilbert Nightray's mind, and he was thinking of a bigger game.

Oz and Alice were doing some spastic dance in the garden, the Nightray sitting under a tree, basked in the darkness of the shade. The sunlight glittered off Oz's blonde locks, throwing off specks of light that almost blinded him. There happened to be a lot of dramatic irony about this sitaution somehow...Especially feeling it as the clouds started to roll in, pre mature thunder scaring Alice into Oz's arms, already forgetting what they were bickering about.

_He cradled his face gently-nothing like the usual joking rambunctious hold he was used to. "Young master?" he asked curious, secretly frightened of this gentle person. Oz looked at him intensely, he registered the silence and the sounds of Ada playing was in the other room. His eyes drooped at the proximity, suddenly very heavy at the new distance. With shaking fingers, he breathed warmly onto the servant's face, pushing the shaking fingers around Gil's bangs, pushing them away from his face in his signature style. When gold eyes began to close, he felt his clammy palms on Gil's skin and gulped. He moved at a snail's pace towards Gil's face, anticipation and want building up in the both of them as a hesitant mouth grazed parted lips. The response was immediate as the younger of the two tossed his weak arms around Oz, prolonging the awkward contact, his lips and teeth hit the corner of Oz's mouth, and he let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. His head swooning with vertigo and excitement, his adrenaline rush wearing him out. When his eyes finally cleared and found solace with his forehead perched on Oz's green jacket, the Versallius bringing their lips barely a breath apart and whispered to him. "This is our game Gil." He felt completely cheated._

In truth, Gil should have had it easier. It must have felt like only one day in the Abyss, and mad that ten years had passed in the meantime. But the way he acted, as if the closeness never existed, except for that day at the manor, when Zwei had controlled him. He felt abadoned and left for that idiotic girl Alice-who hadn't known Oz any longer than he did. How close they were, kissing, hugging, bickering, and doing anything that he had barely gotten to do with the boy out of his life temporarily. He was jealous. he knew he was, but he knew he was also right. Alice was killing Oz. It was a fact, but he knew how much it would hurt his beloved in the end. Wheither he killed Alice or not, it would always be a game to Oz. Gilbert was done being on standby. He could play too.

The blond boy in his arms dripped with sweat, he kept muttering to him that cursed name, the figure holding on to him drenched with blood stains. "Alice...Where's Alice? Alice Alice Alice AliceAliceAlice." the boy rocked himself the scythe falling out of his bloody hands. He turned the boy's face to him and stared into his red empty orbs, not wanting to have to slap him again. "Gil..." recognition filled his eyes as he tensed and relaxed, iris bleeding into a dull emerald. "Gil..." he grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled himself up for a kiss. He held the boy's face, reminiscent of the way Oz had held him eleven years ago. "It's just a game.,Oz." he said, gold eyes burning in fury. Gil wasn't a replacement, and he wasn't going to substitute for his old self. That young naive boy was dead and gone. Oz knew that. "Maybe I don't want to play anymore." the object of his affections mumbled unintelligibly. But Gil caught it. He didn't care that it was raining in sheets of icy water. He lay the delusional boy on the rough bark of the oak he had been always watching the two from. The Baskervilles could wait, Alice could wait. As he finally kissed his master genuinely, after twenty four years of waiting.


End file.
